


The Ghost Of You Is Close To Me

by alientylerjoseph



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicide, really fucking sad, seriously don't read this if you're easily triggered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 13:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4102890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alientylerjoseph/pseuds/alientylerjoseph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh's 'imaginary friend' Tyler convinces him to finally be gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghost Of You Is Close To Me

**Author's Note:**

> please don't read this if you're easily triggered. be careful either way.

It was a metaphorical Sunday that day. The kind of Sunday that had dark clouds, pouring rain, blood flowing into the ground. The kind of Sunday with quiet crying under the covers, with a sense of loneliness that really couldn’t be fulfilled or satisfied. It was a cold kind of loneliness, where nothing feels right, but nothing is really wrong. It was the kind of Sunday where Tyler was at his strongest. Where his words meant the most. It was the kind of Sunday where Tyler convinced Josh to do the previously unthinkable.  
“Hi Josh.” The voice was quieter than it used to be; it was whispery, more like a soft wind rather than an actually voice. It felt like it was all around Josh, swimming around his head, nestling inside his skull. He sat in complete silence as Tyler sat next to him, his head resting on Josh’s shoulder, his arm around his shoulder. Josh felt warmed by Tyler’s presence, but he also felt very cold, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to move ever again. “It’s been a long time since I last saw you.”  
Josh suppressed a shiver, bowing his head. “Yeah, it’s been a while,” he murmured, tears sparking in his eyes like fire on a lighter. “I don’t want to leave, Tyler.”  
“It’s a Sunday.” Tyler sat up, looking very real in Josh’s eyes. “The best day to follow me.” The trees blew, as if trying to agree without speaking. Cold rain blew in and splashed against the wooden floor of the treehouse. A knife sat far in the corner, almost giving off its own aura. Use me.  
“No,” Josh whispered. “I can’t leave.” His voice shook, and his hair blew gently in the breeze, rain occasionally hitting him and sending another chill down his spine. Tyler eyes flickered red, his head twitched ever so slightly, his shoulders tensed and relaxed. One second his eyes were murderous, furious, because Josh wouldn’t listen to him. Then they were calm and sad again. The wind blew harder, and the night seemed to grow darker and darker until there was nothing outside of the treehouse. The forest ceased to exist, the rope ladder previously smacking into the tree faded from existence, and the very tree holding them up almost fell away.  
“You’re gone, Josh.” Tyler’s voice was oh, so, gentle. The voice of a tortured soul taken too far. “Sundays are always when they leave. I left on a Sunday. You can leave on a Sunday.” Josh’s eyes seemed to wander unwillingly to the knife, which he found himself inching slowly towards. He dug his heels into the floor and sat back down. Tyler didn’t even seem evil, and he didn’t seem manipulative; he just seemed like a sad soul that needed someone with him. “If you go, we can sit in this treehouse together. I can sing you pretty sounds again. Ghosts can’t sing pretty sounds to people.” Tyler opened his mouth to sing, and all Josh heard was the wind, blowing suddenly fiercely, maliciously, blowing Josh so hard that he almost fell forward. “I don’t know how long you’ll be away if you decide to leave again. If you go… I’ll be able to stay here with you.”  
Josh found himself staring at that knife again. The knife had been there ever since Tyler left. Josh had first found it with shaking, cold hands and eyes overflowing with tears; in all honestly, Josh didn’t feel much different from the first time he’d seen it. When he’d seen it first, there was crimson blood dripping from it, making a small pool on the floor of the treehouse. Next to the knife he saw a shaking, sobbing boy, with bloody arms and a bloody shirt that didn’t fit him right and jeans that fit him too well and hair that was too beautiful. The boy was crying Josh’s name, screaming, gasping for air. Until he wasn’t anymore. The crying stopped, faded away like it never happened. The boy fell against the wall, his lead lolling out of the treehouse window like a dog’s tongue out of their mouth. The boy took one final, shuddering breath. Josh watched it all happen. Josh lost control of his body until the boy was gone. And after the boy was gone, Josh lost control of his mind.  
“Tyler!” Josh screamed, jumping out of his memory. His hand was on the knife handle. He was sobbing, his tears and his choking breaths feeling more suffocating than anything. He looked wildly through blurred vision, searching, searching for the last thread of his best friend.  
Tyler was resting his hand on Josh’s shoulder, the other on his left arm. “It’s okay,” Tyler whispered into Josh’s ear. “I’m here. I’m close.” He ran his hand down Josh’s arm, over his veins. He repeated this motion until Josh felt strangely calm. Then, Tyler reached over and took Josh’s right hand. The hand with the knife. And he moved it over.  
That night was the last Sunday night that Josh ever had to live through alone.


End file.
